


Ich liebe dich

by YuriAllDahWay



Series: Baewatch [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Light smut?, Mention of Ana, Mild sexual situations, Pharmercy, implications of sex, lots of fluff, rocket angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuriAllDahWay/pseuds/YuriAllDahWay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Angela travels to Egypt to tend to some soldiers of Helix Security International, only to find herself meeting a very, very familiar face. Second part of Baewatch, an Overwatch collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ich liebe dich

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is the fastest story I've ever worked on (finished it in less than a week, bless). But Rocket Angel/Pharmercy deserves it--Mercy and Pharah are too cute together.  
> Anyways, I suppose a little HEADCANON warning should be made: none of the backstory regarding Angela (or Mercy if you prefer) is canon; it's just something I made up. But still, I hope you enjoy this second installment of Baewatch.
> 
> EDIT: there is also another headcanon of mine where Ana would sometimes bring Fareeha to Overwatch HQ, kind of like bring-your-kid-to-work day. it's just a lil dumb headcanon of mine i thought that was cute, aha.

"Doctor, we need you over here!"

Angela Ziegler craned her head over her shoulder, finding the source of the voice in her peripheral vision. A nurse, whose scrubs were covered in splashes of blood, stared at Angela with wide eyes. The mask that covered the nurse's nose and mouth also had splats of red on them.

"Please, Dr. Ziegler, we need you!" The nurse cried, her green eyes glossing over. Angela could almost hear the nurse's will breaking from where she was standing.

"Stay calm," Angela called out, turning her head back to the patient in front of her. It was a gruesome sight: the man had deep gashes were everywhere, blood oozing out; limbs were contorted in unnatural ways, it made even Angela cringe just looking at them; but perhaps the worst of all was the gaping hole in the middle of the patient's abdomen, searing through a majority of his vital organs. Angela took a breath and hovered a hand over the wound. Yellow energy began to surround Angela, and she could feel her Valkyrie armor starting to hum.

"I should be dead," The soldier rasped, shaking his head. " You shouldn't be wasting your time on me, Doctor—"

"Never say that," Angela shot, staring at him with maternal sternness. He immediately shut up. "Now save your breath and focus on breathing—the pain will be gone soon enough." She looked back at the wound she was tending to.

A golden stream started to flow from her hand to the wound. The hole began to repair itself, the tissues weaving back together. Bits and pieces of organs began to form before finally merging together: first the spleen, then the stomach, then finally the kidney. Soon, the skin began to close up, sewing itself until there was nothing but a thin, red circle in the center of the soldier.

Angela took a glance at the soldier.

He stared at her, hazel eyes wide with disbelief. The paleness of his face began to fill with color again.

"D-Doctor," he sputtered, tears on the brink of falling from his face, "thank you."

Angela smiled at him.

"It's my job," she said simply before rushing off to the nurse calling for her assistance.

-x-

Angela sighed.

It had been a long day. For more than twelve hours, she had been tending to soldiers from Helix Security International, a private security firm tasked with protecting God-knows-what. As far as she knew, soldiers from HSI had been ambushed (some say that they recognized the black-and-red uniforms of Talon of their assailants). Despite all their skill and prestigious armor that allowed them to fly (something that Angela took a biased liking to), many soldiers had been injured on all sorts of degrees, and a significant number had been killed.

But the amount paperwork she was supposed to fill out horrified Angela more than the number of casualties.

With another sigh, Angela placed her pen down on the medical report she was working on and reached over for her mug of coffee. She grimaced, surprised by how cold it had gotten; she hated it when that happened.

"Thought the heat of Egypt would keep this one warmer longer," she mumbled to herself, allowing herself to crack a smile. "Guess not."

Suddenly, there were several knocks and the door creaked open. Using her legs, Angela swiveled her chair around to see who her new company was.

It was the soldier she cared for earlier. Although he was bandaged heavily, with his arm slinging from a cast, Angela still recognized his hazel eyes.

She managed to smile. "How may I help you?"

The man shifted his weight uncomfortably, wincing when he put pressure on his injured leg. "I...wanted to thank you again."

"I was just doing my job," Angela said dismissively. She looked down, saw her half-filled mug of coffee, then looked back up again.

The soldier was still in the doorway.

"You can come in, you know." She gestured to the lone chair decorated with her lab coat beside the door.

He took a step forward, so he was in front of the threshold. He simply stood beside the chair, his expression blank.

Angela, who found his stare a little unsettling, cleared her throat. "You can also sit down as well—"

"My captain wishes to speak with you," he cut in.

A heartbeat passed then an uneasy smile crept onto her face. "Is that so?" She stood up, placed her mug on her desk, and made her way to where her Valkyrie armor stood. "This will take a moment or so—"

"You don't need your armor."

Angela turned to him with a quizzical look in her eyes, but allowed herself to part with her armor.

"Just...follow me, please, Dr. Ziegler." The man said, his voice suddenly getting rather serious. Without another word, he turned away and walked out, his heavy, uneven footsteps echoing out in the hall.

_Strange man,_ she thought, scurrying after him, grabbing her lab coat that was hanging from the chair. She rounded the corner, slipping her arms into the sleeves.

"Is...this something regarding the ambush?" Angela asked, trying to break the silence as she finally settled into her coat. Despite the fact the soldier was facing away from her, she still smiled—it was an old habit of hers.

The man turned ever so slightly, then shrugged.

"She just asked me to take you to her."

Angela's smile disappeared, being replaced with a confused frown. Her eyebrows furrowed just a bit. "Is there any particular reason why she couldn't come to me?"

There was a slight hesitation before he shrugged again. "Kind of."

The conversation ended right there.

The rest of the walk continued with relative silence, the only thing being the echoing of their footsteps. Angela took this time to observe the bare, white hallway they were walking in. It reminded her very much of a hospital, which comforted her greatly—being in medical institutions was where Angela felt most at home, as strange as it sounded.

_Rather generous of HSI to give me my own office,_ Angela suddenly thought. Slowly, realization dawned on her, and she furrowed her eyebrows together. _Almost_ too _generous. I may be a doctor, but usually I would get a room in a hotel_ near _my client, not in their HQ. Perhaps,_ she wondered, _they have bigger motives? What if...they intend to keep me here?_

Angela felt herself blanch at the thought.

"We're here." The soldier announced, stopping abruptly in his tracks. Angela managed to stop herself, just short of bumping into him.

The scent she caught from him as he turned around was...familiar.

"Thank you," Angela said, giving him a small smile. The soldier gave a curt nod and a salute, before striding past her.

Another wave of his scent crashed into her.

_God he smells exactly like—_

Angela shook her head and approached the off-white door, its brass knob gleaming in the bright light of the hallway.

For some reason, she was feeling rather anxious.

Quickly, she took a deep breath to soothe her nerves. She reached over and turned the doorknob, and then pushed. The door creaked open, and Angela stuck her head through the crack she made.

Angela felt her heart jump in her throat.

There, on the lone bed in the room, sat Fareeha Amari, daughter of Ana Amari, her back straight and her expression blank.

Angela forced her heart back down to its cage by swallowing.

"Mercy," Fareeha greeted, a faint smile cracking her stoic mask, "Or do you prefer Dr. Ziegler?"

"Angela," she said, squeezing her way through the door. She quietly closed it, the _click_ of the door sounding somewhat satisfying to the ear.

"It's been a while," Angela could hear the smile in Fareeha's voice, "And even longer since you saved my life."

The doctor laughed, turning around and making her way to Fareeha. "I don't remember tending to you."

Fareeha gave a low rumble in her chest, one Angela was positive was a chuckle. "No, but you did treat my men."

"Since when were your men your life?"

Fareeha gave Angela a large grin, a precious sight that melted Angela's heart right there. "Ever since I became captain of the team."

"Who treated you?" Angela asked, reaching out to place a hand on Fareeha's gauze-wrapped arm. She was shocked; Fareeha's arm was rock-solid, and the doctor was absolutely positive she wasn't flexing at all.

"A nurse. My injuries weren't as serious the others. Tariq," Fareeha nodded towards the door, and Angela assumed that it was the soldier who escorted her, "was the one with the most life-threatening injuries."

"I figured as much," Angela mumbled, looking down to watch her own hand rub its thumb to and fro on Fareeha's arm. "He's not much of a talker, is he? That Tariq man."

Fareeha chuckled again. "You'll be surprised. He never shuts up. But lately he has been...quieting down." The sudden sullen note of her tone caused Angela to look up.

"Oh?"

"Over the several missions, he was the only one suffering from substantial injuries. I suppose it's beginning to take a toll on him; he _is_ a rookie after all…."

"Explains his terse way of speaking," Angela smiled, reaching her hand up to cup Fareeha's right cheek instead of her arm. She could feel the skin underneath her hand heating up. "Almost reminds me of you," she mumbled.

Fareeha simply stared at her, dumbfounded and seemingly at a loss for words.

Angela took this moment to appreciate Fareeha's features: her chiseled jawline, the fullness of her lips, the quiet yet absolute determination in her eyes, the way her tattoo curled underneath her right eye—all of them were things that brought Angela a somber note of nostalgia.

"You got it. Her tattoo," She mumbled, her words coming out before her thoughts could stop them.

Angela could feel the Egyptian's clench her jaw underneath her hand; it seems that Ana was still a touchy subject for Fareeha.

"It was in her honor," Fareeha explained, her brown eyes shimmering in the light. Angela had the vague impression she was holding back tears. "It's an U-Udjat, the Eye—"

"The Eye of Horus," Angela finished gently, remembering a conversation she had with Ana one time. "It means the protection of others, doesn't it?"

The Egyptian gave the doctor a crooked smile. "Mother told you, didn't she?"

"Back in the Overwatch days."

Fareeha's smile faded instantly. Angela sighed, cupping the other side of Fareeha's face with her other hand.

"Are you still bitter about me joining Overwatch and not you?" She asked quietly.

A guttural grunt was her only answer.

Angela gave a light laugh, one that bounced around in the air. With a large grin on her face, she slid her hands downwards to wrap her arms around Fareeha's neck. She took another step and a half closer so she was pressed against the Egyptian's body, and nestled her face where Fareeha's neck met her shoulders. The smell of faded jasmine and spice comforted Angela.

When she felt strong arms wind themselves around her waist, slipping underneath her lab coat, Angela's grin grew impossibly larger.

Embracing Fareeha always had that effect on her.

"Even if I am," Fareeha whispered, her breath tickling the top of Angela's ear, "My bitterness can't compare to how much I missed you."

A warm feeling started in Angela's chest, then began to spread throughout her body, reddening her face, tickling her fingertips, sizzling her ears, and exiting her body as a series of giggles.

"If I told Tariq his captain was cheesy, would he believe me?"

"Probably not."

Angela laughed a gentle laugh, which transformed into a quiet hum of approval and satisfaction when she felt Fareeha's lips tap gently across her neck; she bit the inside of her lip, letting out a short huff through her nose, when Fareeha moved up ever so slightly to give her a quick nibble; Angela tensed, gathering the Egyptian's shirt into clenched fists, when Fareeha's tongue flicked out to soothe the bite; and Angela just _had_ to give a gasp, one that was quick and quiet, when she felt Fareeha's hands, roughened and calloused with hard work, slip under the plain-white tee she wore.

The doctor's heart pounded with anticipation as Fareeha picked her up and placed her on the bed.

Whether it came as a surprise or not, Angela Ziegler was a physical person.

Perhaps that's why she dedicated her life to the medicinal field, to help others in ways she was only certified to—whether it be treating them with nanobiotechnology or giving them a soothing massage. There was always certain kind of satisfaction that can only be gained when caring for another person, Angela realized, because the world was much too cruel to face by oneself. Angela had decided when she joined Overwatch—no, when she became a doctor—she would be the one to relieve people of that pain, the burden of being weighed down by life, whether it be temporary or permanent. She had decided to become the embodied compassion that so many people in the world lacked, to become the Mercy that everyone deserved.

But choosing that sort of life had its consequences.

Angela's body writhed, her paleness contrasting against Fareeha's darkness. Sweat was beginning to collect between the both of them, the atmosphere growing heady by the second. Rugged hands, hands that experienced years upon years of literal blood, sweat, and tears, trekked over a smooth, unmarred canvas that was almost too pure to call skin. Angela welcomed them, responding by allowing her own pair of hands to bury themselves into Fareeha's hair; her fingers ran through them like water.

"Does it hurt?" Fareeha whispered before going for another nibble, one that Angela was sure was going to leave a mark.

"No," Angela said instantly, wrapping her bare legs around Fareeha's naked waist, "Keep going."

Fareeha obliged.

As the Egyptian's movements began to grow in courage and curiosity, hands traveling south, Angela began to wonder when was the first time she was touched like this—touched by _her._

It had to be years, at least.

Their first meeting had been a long time ago, back when Mercy first joined Overwatch. She had been assigned to the position of Head of Medical Research, tasked with improving her techniques of nanobiology. With many hours and dedication, most of which was spent in seclusion, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler was able to develop the Valkyrie suit, a type battle armor infused with nanobiotech to support soldiers as they fought.

The first outsider who first saw the Valkyrie suit was Fareeha.

It had been during a test run, and Angela had completely failed at, well, everything: every test, every mock mission, even every surgical simulator had been a complete flop. The only thing that had stopped Angela from wallowing in a pit of despair and misery was the low chuckle she heard from the entrance of her lab.

"Mercy," Fareeha had greeted, a smile on a face much too similar to Ana's, "Or do you prefer Dr. Ziegler?"

"Angela," the doctor had said, eying the young Egyptian approaching her carefully.

"Here," Fareeha had said, reaching out to grasp Angela's armored hand, "I'll show you how to handle a suit of armor efficiently."

Eventually one meeting led to another, a stay too long led to a whole night, and the rest, well, was history.

"F-Fareeha!" Angela moaned, her usually gentle hands clutching violently at the head of hair between her legs. Her toes curled and her back arched, eyes shutting closed; she could see spots dancing behind her eyelids as a tongue lapped at her center. Her heart was beating out of control, her breaths getting caught in her throat. Her mind was a jumbled mess, her thoughts tangled and knotted together.

Her body trembled as she came.

Soon, her high came to an end, and Angela began to relax once more. Fareeha came up from underneath the sheets (how she managed to stay down there for so long was beyond Angela) and gave the doctor a long, loving kiss. Angela could taste herself on Fareeha's lips.

"It really has been a long time since we've done this," Fareeha mumbled, her chest vibrating ever so slightly as she gave another chuckle.

Angela gave her lover a tired smile. "It's been a long time since I've done _you._ "

Fareeha stared at her blankly for a moment, the joke processing in her brain, before they finally broke into subdued laughter. Once their mirth settled, Fareeha adjusted herself in such a way so that she was beside Angela. The doctor turned onto her side, wrapping an arm around the Egyptian's waist, pulling her close. Fareeha nestled herself just underneath Angela's chin.

"Was this the reason HSI gave me my own office in their HQ?" Angela asked.

An exhausted groan and a faint nod was her only answer.

Angela laughed.

_Sometimes I forget she's five years younger than me._

With a content smile, Angela tucked her nose into Fareeha's hair, burying her sense of smell with the Egyptian's scent. She took a deep inhale, then a quiet exhale, repeating the process over and over again. She could feel Fareeha's head rising and falling with her chest with every breath.

It was times like these Angela was thankful for meeting Fareeha that day, even more than usual.

All her life, Angela always had the desire to hold someone close to her, to call someone her significant other. She hadn't realize it until her first surgery in Switzerland. It had been a miraculous success, and Angela had dropped by the patient's room to check on his progress. Once she had entered the room, she encountered the man and his wife holding hands, the largest grins on their faces.

Seeing such a sight had made Angela's heart ache with loneliness.

In that moment, she had begun to remember the nights alone in her office, the cold dinner waiting on the small, round dining table she owned, the bed that seemed a bit too big on the rare occasions she managed to make it to her apartment.

Back then, Angela concealed it all with a small, heart-warming grin.

A soft snore brought the doctor back to reality.

Suddenly feeling stupid for being startled, Angela indulged herself by chuckling lowly and placing a soft peck on Fareeha's head.

A glint of blue caught Angela's eye.

Looking up, she saw a large suit combat armor, its proud blue hue glistening in the room's light. Angela was surprised she hadn't noticed it when she walked in but, then again, she _was_ distracted by a good-looking woman. A helmet, the same color as the suit, sat beside the suit of armor. Angela had to squint in order to read the tiny inscription on the side, next to the yellow visor.

**RAPTORA MARK VI**

**ASSIGNED TO: PHARAH**

_Pharah, huh?_ Angela mused, taking a quick glance at the woman she was holding before looking back at the helmet. _That was the codename she wanted to have if she joined Overwatch._

She put another kiss on Fareeha's head.

"Let us protect the skies together," Angela mumbled, smiling all the while.


End file.
